The problem lay buried, unspoken for many years in the minds of
American women. It was a strange stirring, a sense of dissatisfaction,
a yearning that women suffered in the middle of the twentieth century
in the United States. Each suburban housewife struggled with it alone.
As she made the beds, shopped for groceries, matched slipcover material,
ate peanut butter sandwiches with her children, chauffeured Cub Scouts
and Brownies, lay beside her husband at night, she was afraid to ask even
of herself the silent question: ''Is this all?''?